


Thrust Vigorously

by Dlvvanzor, Living_In_a_Fantasy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Bad Dirty Talk, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Kissing, Love, M/M, Sex, Sexual Humor, Sherlock fails at talking dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlvvanzor/pseuds/Dlvvanzor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_In_a_Fantasy/pseuds/Living_In_a_Fantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are great-- Sherlock and John are in love, and also the sex is basically fantastic.  John figures that pretty much the only thing that could make it better would be if Sherlock talked dirty in bed sometimes.  It is a request he will soon come to regret, when he discovers the one thing in the world that Sherlock Holmes utterly sucks at: sex talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrust Vigorously

Sherlock groaned and dropped down next to John, naked body damp with sweat.  He wrapped his arms around John and pulled him in all the way, the few seconds of separation far longer than he could stand.  He nuzzled into John's hair.

John let himself be pulled in, not having the breath or energy to do much else.

Sherlock hummed, trying to catch his breath.  He wasn't new to the sex thing, but it was so different with John.  It had only been two weeks since they'd gotten together but... it was amazing.

John managed to kiss his jaw. "Was good."

He sighed happily and kissed his cheekbone in response.  He hummed again, long and sincerely.

They were in silence for quite a while. "Hi," he said eventually.

"Hello."

John smiled at him.

Sherlock smiled back, tender.

"This was a good idea."

" _Yes_."

John nodded.

Sherlock scooted closer.  "What else?"

"Hm?"

"What should we do next time?"  He kissed him gently.  "How can I make it better?"

"Well..." John thought about it for a while before speaking. "You can be a bit...quiet."

Dammit.  "Hm?"  He kissed his neck lightly.

John hummed and closed his eyes. "Just a bit quiet," he murmured.

"Do you mean... noises, or... talking?"

"Well, either. Both?"

"It's just."  He shifted a little to look at John.

"What?"

"I'm just, not very good at it," he said awkwardly.

"At talking?"

"Right."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not really good at the talking, in bed," he attempted to explain.

"You can't be that bad."

"I've been told that I am," Sherlock denied.

John watched him dubiously.

Sherlock licked his (own) bottom lip.

"Really?"

"Well, I mean.  Men have.  Stopped."

"Stopped?"

"Like, pulled up their pants," he mumbled.

"Well I'm not a dick, so."

"I can do it next time..."

John smiled at him. "I'd like you to."

He kissed John quickly.  "Alright.  Just..."

"Just?"

He looked at him for a long time.   "I trust you," he said finally.

"Good."

"Right."  He got close to John so that he could stop looking at him and so that, hopefully, John wouldn't see how nervous he now was.

John tugged him in close.

Sherlock rested there, with his chest against John's, and eventually he felt John's breathing even out.

* * *

 

Sherlock was nervous. 

They were sitting on the sofa, watching Top Gear, and they were leaning on each other.  They almost always ended up having sex when they were on the sofa leaning on each other.  Usually Sherlock did it in order to escape Top Gear, but at this moment Sherlock genuinely wanted to nail John to the mattress.  Except that he knew he'd have to talk as he did it and that was a Problem.

John knew Sherlock usually seduced him when Top Gear was on. That's why he watched it so often.

Sherlock could feel the heat of John's body through their clothes.  He could feel the gentle rise and fall of John's shoulder as he breathed, and the way it was just slightly faster than average, probably because he subconsciously knew they'd be having sex within the hour.  It made Sherlock lean against him a little harder.

John smiled and leaned in too.

He worked his arm in around him and drew him closer.

John's smile widened, and he easily slid in against Sherlock's body.

Without a word, not just yet, Sherlock pulled John in and kissed him.

John kissed him back, unhurried.  It was a slow kiss, deep immediately, and Sherlock steadily worked himself in closer to John as they twined their bodies together and the kisses increased in heat, very gradually.

John loved having Sherlock close, Sherlock kissing, Sherlock...everything.

"I love you," Sherlock said, figuring that would be a good place to start. He was nervous, horribly nervous, and it was an unfamiliar feeling for him.  But he did trust John not to laugh at him or push him away...

"I love you too."

Sherlock deepened this kiss.  "I'll try, okay?" he asked one last time.

"Mhm," John agreed, pulling him closer.

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out.  "So, do you want to have me, or shall I have you?"

"Whichever you prefer."

If he bottomed, he'd probably have more room to talk.  He felt like that would be a bad thing, though, but it was the goal of the evening, so... He lay back, pulling John after him, and spread his legs for him to kneel between.

John did, kissing Sherlock deeply.

"I enjoy your kisses," Sherlock reported, wrapping his arms up around John to keep him close.  He ran his hands over John's body, just like he wanted to.

"I enjoy yours," he said.

Sherlock hummed, pulling him tighter.

John went.

"Um..."  He spread his fingers and worked his flat hands under John's shirt, directly against his skin.

John made a sound of appreciation and kissed harder.

"Your skin feels good," Sherlock said a little stiffly.  His hands and lips and body, however, still knew what to do, and he brushed and kissed and stroked and squeezed just as he could read in John's movements that John wanted.

Sherlock seemed fine so far, with the talking. "I want yours," he said, hands going for Sherlock's buttons.

"Okay."  He groaned when John's nails lightly went down his chest.  "You're taking off my clothes."

"I am," John agreed. Okay, so not smooth, but not awful or anything.

Sherlock kept quiet for a bit, just making noises that came to mind as they touched and kissed and finally got both their shirts off.

John shifted down, lips brushing Sherlock's trouser line.

Sherlock groaned and his hips raised automatically.

"Like that?"

"Yes please."

John slowly undid the zip.

Sherlock huffed at the light pressure on his stirring erection, so John lingered there.

Was John pausing to make him talk?  "You're, um, touching me through my underwear."

John paused for the briefest of seconds but continued. "Yes." He let his hand skim Sherlock's erection.

Sherlock twitched automatically, hands running up John's back.

John nosed there. "Should I do more?"

"Yes," he said enthusiastically.

John tugged lightly at the pants.

Sherlock lifted up to let John remove them, nodding several times.  "Off."

John got it off.

Sherlock felt so awkward, and he wasn't even doing anything he wasn't used to, yet.  Thought there was a little talking.  He waited, looking up at John who was leaning over him, shirtless.  "You look good."

"I know," he said, a small smirk in place as he gently licked along Sherlock's erection.

Sherlock made some strange noise before he could stop it from leaving him, hands gripping tightly onto the sofa cushion beneath him.

John's smirk widened. He did it again.

"Your tongue is so good at licking my penis," Sherlock blurted, screwing his eyes shut the moment the words came out of his mouth.

John fought very, very hard not to pause because yes that was...bad. Instead he took Sherlock in fully.

Sherlock was fully aware that that hadn't been a great line, but he'd _warned_ John and John had just practically swallowed him so he wasn't sure he cared.  He made a low moan of approval.

John hummed and took him in deeper.

"The vibrations caused by your humming f-feel really good," Sherlock groaned, hands switching to John's shoulders to clutch there instead of the sofa.

He hadn't thought Sherlock would actually be this bad. John hummed again, since Sherlock liked it.

John wasn't stopping, so maybe he wasn't as horrified as everyone else had been.  "I like... I, I like when you hum..."

John made another low hum, as if to test this.

"Shit," Sherlock breathed, twisting.

John worked Sherlock harder, tongue exploring his cock as he bobbed, slowly taking him in as deep as he could.

Sherlock was being taken apart, and he didn't have to watch what he was saying because John had asked for it, and had kept going.  Maybe even liked it somehow.  He let go, giving in to John and spreading his legs further.  "More," he pleaded.

John wasn't sure how much more he could do with his mouth, but he certainly tried, pushing his throat to his limits.

Sherlock choked when John somehow did more with his mouth.  That hadn't been what he meant, but holy god was John good.  "I meant," Sherlock managed to gasp after the initial mind-blowing rush of going an extra inch deeper, "proper sex.  We should.  We could...."

Now that John was there, he stretched the barest amounts father, taking Sherlock in to his limit. He sort of felt like he was being choked, but it was fine because moments later he'd pulled away, a bit out of breath.

Sherlock almost came when John actually deep throated him but John pulled away too soon.  Sherlock looked up at him, dazed.  "That was really sexy," Sherlock reported, eyes glazed.

"Glad," he panted, crawling up Sherlock.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked.  "Didn’t that hurt?"

"Just a bit." He kissed him chastely. "It'll be fine."

Sherlock frowned a little and ran his fingers lightly down the front of John's throat.  "I don't want you to get hurt."

John's eyes closed at the touch. "Be okay."

Sherlock pulled him down to kiss him softly.

John smiled into the kiss.

Sherlock kissed him until he was both sure that John was telling the truth, and until he couldn't stand not having John in him, any longer.  "Have intercourse with me," Sherlock said against John's lips.

John planted one final kiss then moved back. He presented his finger to Sherlock, the small smirk returning. "No lube."

"Good," Sherlock said simply.  He wrapped his lips around John's fingers and moistened them obscenely, with little groans and aroused noises, all designed to make John crazy.

For how bad Sherlock was at talking, he was very, very good at that. John's eyes flickered closed on reflex.

Sherlock slowly removed his mouth, smirking back up at John, not taking his eyes off him.  "Now wiggle one of them into me," he said in a low voice.

John kissed him instead.

Sherlock spread his legs wider, urging, kissing John filthily.

John groaned into the kiss and blindly reached down to carefully force his first finger in.

Sherlock grunted and nodded in approval.

John worked the second and third in, preparing him thoroughly before breaking the kiss at all.

Sherlock, breath coming heavy, lay beneath John and looked up at him.  He dropped his voice as deep as it could go.  "Put your penis into my body."

John did, and hopefully it would reduce Sherlock to moans and gasps instead of words.

Sherlock held him tightly, relaxing to take John in as deep as he could.  "I want the head of your penis to reach all the way to my duodenum," Sherlock moaned.

That...was a lot of words. John surged up at kiss him in a fit of inspiration as he slowly began to set a pace, aiming carefully. It didn't take him long to manage.  When he did, Sherlock's head dropped back, breaking the kisses, and he cried out.  "You've stimulated my prostate."

Dear God. He aimed for it again.

Sherlock gasped.  "Your d-degree of accuracy is..."

John did it again.

"It's so _high_ , you're so skillful... God I love you, best I've ever had..."  Sherlock stretched out, fingers digging into John's back.

John grunted and pressed in again, harder. "Love you," he echoed.

He could trust John, so he simply said anything that came through his head.  "I can, I can feel your penis so d-deep inside me, it's as if you're.  Everywhere.  Just everywhere.  I'm close to orgasming."

John slammed in again, harder. "Then come."

Sherlock groaned and arched and almost did.  John took hold of his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Sherlock. I need to see it."

Sherlock cried out and came in John's hand, yelling something about how good orgasms feel.  John pressed his forehead into Sherlock's shoulder and gave a few more thrusts before following.  Sherlock held him close, protective, as John released in him, too breathless to comment on it.

John just stayed there for a few moments, unmoving.  When Sherlock could breathe, he sighed, wincing as John gingerly pulled out but smiling to himself when he stayed curled up on top of him.

Sherlock stretched, body feeling amazing as it always did after John had him, and rolled them over.  He lay heavily on John and kissed him, lazy and sweet.

John kissed tiredly back.

"I love you," Sherlock murmured, breaking the long kisses only briefly.

"Love you."

He kept kissing him, happy and feeling like he had all the time in the world to just spend with John.  He had no plans to stop kissing him, but when he finally decided a break was in order, he rested his head on John's chest and nuzzled in.

John's arms fell to his sides. "Hi."

"Hi," he said back.

"Sex."

"Hm?"

"Sex."

"Yes," he agreed.

John nodded.

Sherlock picked his head up to look at him.

John gave him a small smile.

Sherlock relaxed and smiled back at him.

"Up."

Sherlock got off of him.

"Up here."

Sherlock climbed back on him, relieved that he hadn't suddenly and randomly been dismissed, and kissed him.

John kissed back.

Sherlock sighed softly, content.  "My whole body feels good now," he observed.

"Good."

He touched John's chest.  "And you?"

"Mhm."

Sherlock nuzzled his chest.

Maybe he shouldn't bring it up...

"I like doing it without lube," Sherlock mused.

"Mhm."

"Nothing between us at all, then," he said softly, trying to burrow into John more but finding it impossible.

"I love that," he agreed.

Sherlock nodded against him.

John held him, quiet.

Sherlock was held, eyes closed, happy.  "Can trust you with anything," he mumbled, feeling drowsy.

John smiled. "I'm glad."

"Trust," he said again, nuzzling and dozing off slightly.

"Trust," he echoed.

* * *

 

Last night had been great.  He didn't enjoy the talking, but being able to simply speak his mind was very freeing, and every time they'd had sex since that night, Sherlock had tried talking, and John had yet to say a word about it.  Currently, Sherlock was looking hungrily at John, who was making tea.

John was minding his own business, making tea, and wondering how to ask Sherlock to stop talking in bed. He felt like a dick.

Sherlock came up behind John and wrapped his arms around him low on his waist.  He kissed the side of John's neck.

John tilted his head, letting Sherlock kiss. Maybe he would just kiss and not talk.

Sherlock mouthed along his throat, quiet for the first several moments.

John hummed, putting the tea down and leaning back into Sherlock, enjoying the attention.

Sherlock pressed into his back with his whole body, not stopping the slow kisses.

John decided not to speak, or it might stop the general not speaking. He leaned back further, weight slowly transferring to Sherlock.

Sherlock nipped, licked a little.  "John," he said in a low voice.

John's hands settled on Sherlock's, tightening. He knew just what to do with his mouth.

"I want you," he said into John's skin.

"Want you," he echoed, pressing back further.

Sherlock sank his teeth, not too hard, into the intersection between John's neck and shoulder.

John gasped and jerked.

"Mmm..."

"Good at that," he mumbled.

"Mhm..."  He licked where he'd bitten.  "I want to take you to bed," he said.  "And take off your clothing, then have sex with you."

Not too bad. Good. "I want that."

"Good.  It's been nearly a whole day, you know."  He licked the back of John's neck.  "Since we've had intercourse.  I've missed pushing my penis into you and making you have an orgasm."

He needed to tell him. He really, really needed to tell him. But he really wanted to have sex, and if he told him, there would be no sex.

He pressed his clothed cock against John's arse, just to let him know where he stood.

Fuck. He couldn't tell him now, could he? John automatically pushed back against it.

"I really want to have sex with you," Sherlock said in a low voice.  "Come to the bedroom?"

Fuck it, he'd bring it up later. "Yes."

Sherlock held his hand and led him slowly there.

John was led to bed, and pressed down. Sherlock loomed above him, a small but firm smirk on his face. He luxuriated in ten minutes of light kisses to his neck before Sherlock descended, kissing away his protests. Very quickly, he found them both bare. The preparation was quick, with blessedly minimal "dirty talk" from Sherlock, and he very quickly found himself gasping Sherlock's name as he thrusted into him, hard.  They came, together, just as Sherlock had been intending, and Sherlock slammed his lips down onto John as his orgasm overtook him, making his elbows weak where he propped himself.  He lowered his body down, when John stopped thrashing, and looked up at him.  He didn't pull out, not wanting to be away.

John just gazed at him, a dazed expression on his face.

"Love you," Sherlock mumbled.

"Love."

Sherlock nodded.

"My love," he said, tugging Sherlock down.

Sherlock melted into that, kissing him hard.  "Mine, my love."

John only had so much breath in him.

Sherlock had him timed, and pulled back when he knew John would need to breathe.  In response.  John dragged him down next to him and curled into his side.

He let John move him however he wanted.

"Know my weakness."

"You know mine."

"Sex weakness."

"Mhm.  You know mine."

"Use it well."

"Thanks."

John got quiet.

"You're mine," Sherlock said, hoping for praise or more kisses.  "Sex weakness, you're mine.  Your whole... all of you."

"All yours," he confirmed.

"I meant your whole, all of you, is my weakness.  Sex weakness."  He kissed him, since John wasn't doing it.  "Everything you do seduces me."

John smiled at the compliment. "You're sweet."

"Do I get kisses for being sweet?" he prodded.

John kissed him.

When it ended, Sherlock nodded in approval.  "Good.  Thanks."

"Glad I meet your approval."

He nodded seriously.  "You do."

John kissed him again.

Sherlock sighed and gave himself to it.

John pulled away, slowly. Maybe he could bring it up now, when Sherlock was sated and happy and sweet. "You love me no matter what?"

He smiled at him.  "Yes."

"And I love you no matter what."

Sherlock's eyes softened and he shifted so that he could brush John's hair back from his eyes.

"So what I am about to say is with, the absolute most love possible of existing."

Sherlock frowned slightly and looked down at him.  "What?"

John hesitated. Maybe now he was just going to start an argument and ruin it all.

"John, what?"

"Remember when I asked you to talk during sex?" he blurted.

Sherlock nodded slowly.

"And you said you were bad at it."

There was a sinking feeling in Sherlock's chest.  He nodded.

John was frowning. "Um..." He couldn't do this. Sherlock had been happier lately. He could tell. He could deal with the weird comments.

Sherlock waited.

"Never mind."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

John pecked his lips.

Sherlock accepted it, but he still felt uneasy as John settled back in.

Sherlock wasn't an idiot.  Far from it, in fact.  About as far from 'idiot' as was humanly possible, actually.  He knew what John had been planning to say-- at least, he thought he did.  But he lowered his head back down onto the pillow.

John pressed into Sherlock's side and closed his eyes.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around him.  John pecked his cheek, since it was close.

Sherlock rested there uneasily.

John rested there easily.

Sherlock nuzzled closer.  He wasn't sure he'd be able to talk _more_ than he was.  But if John wanted it, he could try...

John settled in. "Might sleep. Is it night?"

Sherlock shrugged.  "I'd have to open my eyes to find out.  Night is subjective anyway."

He hummed.

With renewed determination, Sherlock let himself drift off to sleep, damp and curled up with John.

* * *

 

The next day found them on a case, running around like crazy before capturing the criminal by both tackling him at the same time, turning him in with physical force.  It had been thrilling, and Sherlock was absolutely wired, and he hadn't been able to make it back to the flat before he'd seized John by the shirt and slammed him against a brick wall of an alley and attacked him with his lips.

John absolutely loved snogging Sherlock in alleys. He drew him close with enthusiasm.  Sherlock groaned and pressed in closer, nothing by teeth and nails and tongue.  John moaned in response, arms snaking around Sherlock tighter.  "I will have you here," Sherlock told him at a low gravel.

"Good," John said, leaning up to kiss him again. "I want you to have me."

"Good."  He teeth went to John's neck and started in there, nipping and grazing they way Sherlock knew John liked it.  He was nearly crazed with lust, and it didn't even occur to him, until that moment, that he was supposed to be talking more.  But he was so overcome, he didn't _want_ to...

Sometimes John regretted Sherlock finding out about his neck, because the other man could take him apart within minutes. But that was part of why he loved it too. He moaned his approval, keeping his voice low.

It would make it better for John if he did, though.  They were going to have to do it with no lube, while standing, so really he should do whatever would help John...

"Um," he said, mind not nearly collected enough to let him slow down on his ministrations on John.  "I like how your neck looks."

God, no. John hummed and dragged Sherlock in closer.

John had pulled him closer, so he must like it.  Sherlock shifted his hips against John's, feeling him there, already hard as a rock because Sherlock knew for a fact that John had a public kink he didn't like to talk about.  "I can feel your hard penis."

"Shhh," he said, inspired. "People will hear you."

Sherlock dropped his voice to a whisper accordingly.  "We'll rub our penises together and then I'll remove the clothing from your lower body and slowly penetrate you with mine."  Although he was now forced to talk, he was enthusiastically continuing the frantic kissing.  He didn't know how much longer he could take the rubbing, so he fumbled with John's zipper.

John let him, kissing Sherlock continuously to stop the talking.

Sherlock couldn't talk, then, because suddenly John had gripped his face and kissed him deeply. For a while, Sherlock was silenced because of this, but eventually he had both their pants to their knees and he had to look to prepare John.  He dropped to his knees to get a better angle, looking up at John through his hair and lust-blown eyes.

Fuck, Sherlock was hot. Especially on his knees.

"I'm going to lick your perineum," he said in a deep voice.

John just nodded.

He hated the talking so much.  "Would you like for me to lick you there?" he teased, leaning towards John's cock.

"Yes." Very much yes.

Sherlock leaned forward, extending his tongue, and ran his tongue thoroughly over the space between John's anus and testicles, holding onto John's hips as he did it.

John's head fell back against the wall hard. "F-fuck, Sherlock."

He lavished it for a while, and then pulled back to look up at John.  "Would you like me to stretch your anal sphincter, now?"

"Just do it," he told him.

Sherlock obscenely moistened the needed fingers, and inserted them.  "My fingers are several inches inside of you," he purred, kissing John's inner thighs.

John's hips jerked into the kiss, wanting more of Sherlock's mouth.

John really did seem to like when he talked.  He left a long lick up John's thigh, going around John's cock instead of anywhere on it that would feel really amazing.  "I am circumnavigating your penis," he reported, slowly removing his fingers, "so that you will be sufficiently aroused when I enter you."

"You could fully navigate it," he managed.

Sherlock lithely got back to his feet and pressed himself against John, jerking his hips against John's and kissing him bruisingly.  "You are prepared," Sherlock said into his ear.  "Would you like me to put my penis in you?"

"I want you to fuck me," he told him. "On this wall."

Sherlock restrained a shiver.  "Would you prefer me to.  To vigorously insert and remove my penis, or.  To slowly push my penis into you so that you can feel each individual inch in your colon?" he asked, lips drifting down to John's neck, going slowly now that he had everything he wanted.

"Just fuck me," he said, hands digging into Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock put the head of his cock against John and stopped, brushing it there, teasing.

"Sherlock," he whined.

Sherlock smirked, and with a rough shove he buried himself to the hilt in John.  He groaned at the sudden tightness and heat, and bit down hard on John's shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he moaned, curling over Sherlock and holding on tight.

"It's like putting my cock inside a hot, wet cloth and tying it tightly," Sherlock described at random.  "Your body feels very good."  He shifted out and rocked back up, just a little at first.

He tried really hard not to focus on the words. "Harder."

Sherlock did it again, quite a bit harder.  Breathing heavily, kissing wherever he could on John, he said, "You.  You're so sexually at-attractive.  I love, I love getting to have sex with you, be close to you.  Love you so much."  He mauled John's collarbones for a while, unable to speak more as he did that.  John bit his lip to stop from moaning at the movement, because Sherlock felt good, and was moving hard, and they were in public and that made it so much better.  Sherlock panted, going as hard as he could.  It was so difficult to think, but John wanted words and he wanted to give John everything.  "Being with you sexually is so s-satisfying..."

John tried to shift, to find a position that would let him go deeper, harder. "N-need you."

"I need you as well," he said, shifting John to help him, pulling his leg up and holding it firmly to give himself more room to maneuver.  "Your body feels so good.  I c-can feel the mucus membrane lining your intestines, it's so smooth and my cock slides along it so easily..."

"S-stop talking, just, just keep, _that_ ," he managed. Sherlock holding his leg gave a lot more of wonderful, glorious space.

Sherlock moaned in relief and fucked him hard, probably scraping up John's shirt and maybe even his back, knowing that John wanted it that way and would sacrifice his clothes and skin.  He seized John's cock and pumped it furiously, eyes locked on John to see the moment he came, which should be any time now...

Finally. John gave a soft moan in approval, sliding up the wall slightly from the pressure Sherlock was putting on his body. His back scraped against the brick but it hardly mattered, because Sherlock's eyes were on him and he was hitting his prostate dead on every time and God, his fucking hand was moving in perfect time and it was so fucking _good_. He came with a strangled gasp, trying very very hard to be as quiet as he could.

The sound John made was more than enough to bring Sherlock along.  "I'm having an orgasm," he gasped as he came, clutching John and fucking into him still, trying to continue to hit his prostate to draw out John's orgasm.

And Sherlock kept _going_ , and thankfully he wasn't overly sensitive yet so it just felt very, very nice. He eventually went limp against the wall, sagging towards the ground but not quite hitting the ground.

Sherlock stopped the moment it wasn't going to be good for John anymore, holding him up even though his own knees felt weak.  He pressed his face against John's head, breathing hard.  "Fuck, John," he panted.

John made some sort of sound in agreement.

"Alleyways are definitely where you shine," he said, pressing a kiss to his hair before picking up his own head and resting his chin on it instead.

"So glad," he panted.

Sherlock laughed breathily.

"Can't stand," he mumbled.

"I've got you," Sherlock whispered to him, holding him up.

That made John smile.

He swayed them slightly, as if they were dancing.

John hummed and pressed in closer.

Eventually, he propped John against the wall so that he could tenderly get him dressed.  Then he pulled his own pants and trousers up.  He brushed John's hair to what he figured normal people wouldn't instantly know meant he'd just shagged.

John smiled at him, and as it had been alley sex, it still had a bit of a dazed quality to it. "Hi."

Sherlock smiled back at him.  "Hello, my love."

John slipped his arms around Sherlock lazily. "Hi."

He kissed him softly.  "Hi."

John kissed him back then rested his forehead on his shoulder.

Sherlock bundled him in.  "Home?"

John nuzzled in. "Far."

"We could get a hotel," he suggested.

"Close?" he asked.

"We're leaning on one," he said with some humor, nuzzling into John's neck.  "We could get a room and be irresponsible and have sex all night long."

"Sex all night," he agreed, slumping into Sherlock further.

They'd had a paying case recently.  For once, he could afford to get something superfluous for John.  He took his hand and led him to the hotel, where there was a smirking concierge and an unbooked room.

* * *

 

They had sex again once they got inside and got comfortable, because they'd spread out on the bed and watched television for the sole purpose of getting worked up again.  Sherlock had forced himself to talk.  John had internally cringed.  And now they were lying together quietly, curled up and kissing softly whenever the urge struck, which was often.  They had about half an hour before they'd be able to really go at it again, and it was clear that they were planning on it, but for now the soft, sweet kisses were just as nice.  "The hotel is nice," he said.

Sherlock nodded, gazing at him.

"You're nice."

Sherlock smiled, eyes softening.

John kissed him.

Sherlock let him, and kissed back, then went back to gazing at him.

They were nice, and happy, but John really thought they needed to talk. He just didn't want to ruin the night.

Sherlock turned his gaze to John's naked arm, turning it over so that he could run his fingertip over his veins.  He was fascinated by being tangled up with a body which had no track marks.

John let him, eyes on Sherlock.

Sherlock named the veins and arteries, in his head, then moved down to lightly touch John's fingers from the palm out.

John squeezed the hand.  Sherlock smiled up at him, shifting his light tracing attention to John's lips.  The other man's eyes closed at the feeling.  Sherlock hummed softly, kissing his nose lightly, and brushed over John's eyebrows, now.

"Love you," John murmured.

"I love you too," Sherlock said seriously, utterly focused on the curve of John's left eyebrow and how the hair was patterned there.

"So since we love each other..."

"Hm?"

"Can I talk to you?"

His eyes went to John's.  He gave up on the eyebrow, and nodded, wary.

 "It's about the....talking," John said cautiously. "During sex."

Sherlock watched him.

"You said you weren't good at it and you're....not...great at it."

Sherlock nodded quietly.

"I don't want you to like, stop speaking, or anything. But you don't have to...try. To."

Sherlock was... embarrassed.  He didn't move away from John but he felt himself close off, just slightly.  "I didn't actually enjoy it anyway," he mumbled.

John could tell, and he hurriedly moved closer. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to..." he rambled, looking down at him and frustrated with himself.

"I just.  I mean I thought you liked it, you acted like it was fine, you let me do it for a week..."

"You seemed so happy..."

"Because I thought I was making you happy," he mumbled quieter.

"You do..." Sherlock looked unhappy, and John backed off to give him space, feeling a bit sick for making him look like that. "I'm sorry. Forget I brought it up."

And now John was backing away.  He looked at him, glad that his face generally didn't blush even when he felt like it should.  He'd talked more than he ever had for anyone else, ever.  And John had been, what, cringing the whole time?

"I appreciate it," John said, frowning down at the bed. "And it wasn't all bad. Honestly. Just sometimes you seemed to be...trying too hard. That's all. And I'm awful for bringing it up."

Sherlock glanced up at him.  "I am _awful_ at talking in bed," he said frankly.  "Don't try to back out of it now."

John flinched back slightly.

"I just don't understand why you let me do it for a _week_ ," Sherlock said, sighing.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Were you... cringing the whole time?" he thought, cringing at the possibility.

"Not the whole time, no."

Sherlock sighed again.  "Well you didn't pull your pants back up in the middle of things, I do appreciate that."

John continued to frown down at the bed. "It was still good."

Sherlock, not quite able to make eye contact, took John's hand.  "Okay," he said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry."

He squeezed his hand and said nothing.  John glanced back up at him hesitantly.  Sherlock kept not quite looking at him, but didn't let go of his hand.  He was thinking of all the things he'd said and... _God_ a near-perfect memory was sometimes not a blessing.

"What can I do?"

Sherlock rolled over to hide his face under John's arm.  "I talked for a week," he said, humiliated.  "I can remember all the things I said."

John scrambled until he could hold him.

"You were probably thinking the whole time..."

"Make me do something. Something that will embarrass me."

Sherlock picked up his head to raise a skeptical eyebrow at him.

John nodded, as that was the first thing to make Sherlock look at him.

"That's stupid," he said frankly.

"Why?"

"Because I love you and you didn't embarrass me on purpose."

John shrugged.

Sherlock shook his head and lowered it back onto John.

"Was just trying to help..."

He squeezed again.  "I know."  He turned his head to look at him.  "What must you think of me now?"

"That you're perfect and I'm awful."

Sherlock huffed a laugh.

"It's true."

"'I'm going to put my penis into you and vigorously remove it, then do it again,'" he quoted at a monotone.

John leaned in slowly to make sure it was okay. "I suck."

Sherlock blinked at him, as that was not a phrase he'd ever heard John use.

John nodded.

"When I talk I sound like an adolescent narrating a pornographic novel," Sherlock said, shaking his head.

"I am a sucky, awful, useless boyfriend."

" _How_?" Sherlock said, exasperated.

"Because I didn't tell you." He frowned again. "I'm just making it worse."

"I don't know why you think hearing you degrade yourself would make me feel better."

John sighed and slumped.

"I love you.  Could you just give me a moment to rebuild my pride?"  He closed his eyes.

"Yeah." John slid back to give Sherlock space.

"Don't leave," he said, alarmed.  "This is the part where you tell me why I shouldn't be embarrassed and how amazing I am in bed."

John came back. "But you said to let you..."

Sherlock waited patiently.

"You are amazing in bed," he parroted. "I mean, look what you did to me outside."

"Talked," he said flatly.

"Huh?"

"What I did to you outside was talk."

"Not all of it."

Sherlock nudged him.

"Hm?"

"Keep it up," he teased slightly.

John held Sherlock close and squeezed. "You can take me apart within minutes by going for my neck. You make it so I can't even stand, or breathe. You're the best partner I've ever had."

He nodded approvingly.  "And the talking didn't ruin it or make you feel like you were fucking an adolescent boy narrating a pornographic novel?"

"Not at all."

"But you correctly agree that I'm unbearably awful at it," he asked to confirm that John was sane.

"...Yes...?"

Sherlock nodded.  "And you asked me to talk in the first place because I'm so good at the rest of it," he smirked slightly, "that you naturally assumed that I'd be good at talking, as well."

"Well, yes."

The good thing about Sherlock's ego was that it was self-repairing and it did it really, really quickly.  He nodded again.

John looked at him hopefully.

Sherlock kissed his cheek.

He relaxed.

"Thanks for telling me.  And for not stopping in the middle of the first time."

John kissed him lightly.

"Also assume from now on, if I say I'm awful at something, I am awful at it.  You know my ego wouldn't have me saying that unless it were desperately true."  He kissed him again.

"Ok." John kissed him again. "You are very good in bed, though."

He kissed back.  "We're _in_ bed, in fact."

"We are. You're good at the seducing thing."

" _Am_ I?" he teased, kissing him deeper.

"Mhm."

"So what if," Sherlock said, lowering his voice, "I kiss your body until you're saying even stupider things than I was?"

John tugged him in closer. "That could be good."

He kissed him again, deeper.  "Until you don't even have a choice, until you don't even _know_ what words are coming out of your mouth."

How was he...? "Would like that," he informed him.

Sherlock kissed along John's jaw.  "You were saying something about your neck, as I recall, and about liking something that I do to it...?"

John tilted his head. "Yes, very good at..."

"At...?" he asked, nuzzling it lightly.

"Kissing and, tongue. On it."

"What about my teeth?" he asked as if curious, still only nuzzling.

"Yes, those too."

"And brushing it, with just my lips?  A bit like a kiss but..."  He brushed John's throat with his lips.

John gave a low hum. "Yes."

"Which do you like the most?" he asked, kissing.

"Mmm what?"

"Which," he repeated, voice deepening, "do you. like. the most?"

Fuck, his voice was...very good. "I. Kissing."

He nipped to be contrary.  "Do you think I could make you come just from this?"

Fuck, yes. "Maybe?" He asked, voice coming out slightly breathlessly.

"Without touching you otherwise?  Or would you need to be touching yourself?"  He licked a long, thick line.

"D-don't know. But I like when you. Touch."

"No, you'll be the one touching.  And I want it to be with your off hand."  He took John's right hand and put it on his lap.  I want to watch you desperately try and get yourself off as you slowly lose your mind from my lips on your neck."

John let out a slow breath. "Yes. Okay." This was what he'd meant about the talking thing.

Sherlock took John's fingers and wrapped them around his cock.  He released the fingers and adjusted his body so that he was pressed firmly up against John's side.  And he attacked his neck.

John gasped, hand just sort of hanging loosely before he attempted to give a light stroke. But Sherlock was being very, remarkably thorough and it was very distracting.

"I like to watch you touch yourself," Sherlock said against his skin.  "Did you know?"  He pressed his hips forward against John's side to prove it.

"I. No." John wanted to kiss him but he also didn't want Sherlock to stop kissing his neck, and it was a problem.

"Before we were together," he said between obscene neck kisses, "I thought about it.  About you on your back, on your bed, jerking hard.  I imagined the face you'd make as you came, and sometimes I imagined that your lips would silently form my name."  He rubbed harder against John's side, beyond his control.

"R-really?" he sort of asked, sort of moaned. His hand jerked but the motion was sloppy,

"Oh yes.  It was _agony_."  He kissed to the other side of John's neck, for variety.  "It always made me come so hard that I couldn't help but cry out.  I had to wait until you weren't home."

With the other side, Sherlock had to lean over him. He wanted Sherlock's weight, so he arched into him.

Sherlock hummed, noticing this, and climbed onto John.  He didn't block the movements of John's arms, though he made it more difficult.  He pressed down on him with his body, stooping low to ravage John's neck.  He rocked his hips against John's thigh.  "It was harder than I'd ever come in my life, when I thought of you and touched myself.  Until I had you, of course."

"God," he moaned, free arm wrapping around Sherlock, rocking his hips up to try and get friction from his hand.

Sherlock continued the torturously slow movement of his own hips against John.  "I made such a mess those times," he told John, sticking to kisses and not bites, for the moment.  "All over my hands, my stomach, my sheets.  It's why you thought I never washed my sheets.  I had to hide them and wash them later."

"I...you..." His hand managed to move a bit faster.

When he did that, Sherlock started rocking a little faster again him, matching it.  "So you see, you were soaking my sheets long before we started sharing my bed and soaking them together."  He bit.

John released a small yelp at the unexpected action, arching. "How are you?" he asked, uncomprehending.

"I am well, John," Sherlock teased in a low chuckle, pressing closer to him and moving harder.  The way John was coming apart was getting him close.  "And yourself?"

"S-stop. S'not. Funny."

Sherlock stopped all his movements.

"No." He tugged Sherlock closer. "You can't _stop_ stop."

"Good," Sherlock whispered in John's ear.  "I don't ever want to stop.  There is not a single moment of a single day when I do not want you, John Watson.  I want you _constantly_.  When it's been a few hours, all it takes is for you to brush past me before I'm hard and weeping, and panting."

John surged up to kiss him, hard.

Sherlock kissed him back, filthy, free hand running firmly up John's side.  "Pump yourself harder," he said against John's lips.  "Watching you touch yourself is making me want to come.  _Need_ to come.  All over your thigh."

John gave a small moan into Sherlock's mouth and attempted to obey.

" _Come_ , John," Sherlock commanded.

John jerked, because Sherlock had never _commanded_ him like that, and a few more sloppy pumps was all it took before he was coming with a cry of Sherlock's name.  Sherlock shuddered and came with a gasp, seeing white and continuing, automatically, to thrust against John's outer thigh, gripping John's shoulder with one hand and the bed with the other.

John slowly came back down, still gasping for air and staring up at Sherlock in amazement.

Sherlock slowed to a stop as the pleasure receded, resting his head against John's and breathing hard.  He smiled at the awed expression and kissed him tiredly.

John managed a sort of press of lips back.

Sherlock cuddled down next to him, sighing in satisfaction.  John rolled towards him.  Sherlock opened up his arms for him.  He curled up there. "That was...wow."

"Really?"  He nuzzled in.

"God yes."

"We just rutted," he pointed out.  Not that he was complaining.

"You...the things you _said_ ," John replied, sounding awed still.

Sherlock picked up his head and propped it, looking puzzled.  "I didn't 'talk.'  I just talked."

"No but you, with the voice and all the words. And it was...fuck, it was hot."

"Huh."  He kissed his cheekbone.

"Do it more," he said, nuzzling in as his eyes closed.

"Alright," he said, sounding a bit amused.

"More."

"Right now?"

"No." He pressed his face into Sherlock's shoulder. "Tired."

Sherlock nodded.  "I think we got our money's worth with three rounds," he agreed.

John hummed.

"But just to be sure, I'll fuck you first thing in the morning," Sherlock decided.

"Yes," he slurred slightly.

"Good," Sherlock said sweetly.  "See you tomorrow."

John squirmed for the blanket, half-dragging it over them.  Sherlock patiently tucked it in the rest of the way.

"You tired?"

"Fucked you three times in five hours.  _Exhausted_."

"Good. I'm too."

"Good."  He nuzzled yet again because he knew John liked it.  "Sleep with me."

"Kay." He scooted until he was half on top of Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed happily and wrapped his arms around him, loving his warm weight on top of him.

"Love you."

"I love you too."

John nodded seriously and settled down to sleep.

It wasn't long before, exhausted from the case and from the sex, and soothed by John's weight over him, Sherlock fell asleep.


End file.
